


it's fine

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [139]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/M, Sex in the Impala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10709835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: “You know,” Claire says, “It’s Friday night at the ER, they’re going to be in there at least an hour.”“Yeah,” Sam says, cleaning off her face, trying to untangle her hair, the coppery smell mingling with the herbal scent of whatever shampoo she uses. He’s a little surprised she’s letting him do this so easy. Braces a hand on his thigh, tips her head to the side, watches him.“Oh my god, don’t make me say it.”





	it's fine

Dean and Jody have already dashed inside, left Sam to crawl into the front seat and park the Impala in one of the parking decks several minutes from the ER entrance. Jody will be fine. She might have a broken leg - again - but she’ll live. It’s ok.

Turning the car off and sliding into the back seat again, Sam tries to catch Claire’s face but she batts his hands away.

“It’s fine.”

“Come on, you should probably go inside too.”

“It’s really not that bad.”

Claire glares at him, stays right in her seat and makes absolutely no move to leave.

Sam reaches underneath the front seat and finds the first aid kit stashed there. A small pocket flashlight is easy to find, heavy harsh grooves under his fingertips. The parking deck is dark and quiet. Clicking it on, Sam eases closer, reaches a little slower. He won’t make Claire go if she doesn’t want to. She’s a little banged up, but not that bad. He understands an aversion to hospitals.

“C’mere, let me take a look.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Rolling her eyes, Claire folds one leg up on the bench seat to angle towards him and leans closer. Sam curls a hand around her neck and angles her face, trickle of blood dried sticky down one cheek, small cut across her forehead. It’s in a few of the long blond curls that fall over her shoulders, dark, matting. But it really doesn’t look that bad.

“Here, follow the light.”

Sam swipes the flashlight side to side, watches the movement of her eyes, checks the dilation.

“You took a pretty nasty hit.”

“It’s a little sore, nothing’s broken. Seriously. It’s fine.”

Sam frowns, tucks the flashlight under an arm and digs through the first aid kit for an alcohol wipe.

“Ow.”

Claire flinches away.

“Just let me.”

He’s glad she’s at least hunting with Jody now. She’s called him and Dean for help on cases. It’s a good thing.

“You know,” Claire says, “It’s Friday night at the ER, they’re going to be in there at least an hour.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, cleaning off her face, trying to untangle her hair, the coppery smell mingling with the herbal scent of whatever shampoo she uses. He’s a little surprised she’s letting him do this so easy. Braces a hand on his thigh, tips her head to the side, watches him.

“Oh my god, don’t make me say it.”

Sam blinks and tosses the rust stained alcohol wipes on the floor board. There’s a little fresh blood seeping from the cut on her forehead after being disturbed, but it’s not bad. He digs out a bandaid for it, flashlight beam unsteady.

“Hm?”

Claire’s other hand settles on Sam’s other thigh, her forehead practically touching his as he finishes pressing the bandaid on.

“Sam. I know you’re not stupid.”

The flashlight rolls out from underneath his arm, wedges in the seat pointed upward. The bright cone of light next to them casts shadows across Claire’s face and her hands slide higher on his thighs.

“Oh.”

Right. Right.

This is a thing that Sam is not supposed to be doing anymore.

When Claire kisses him, he doesn’t stop her. He hunches a little lower, let’s his hand that had tended her slide around behind her neck, the other settling on her waist. It’s almost strange to see her every few months, every year or so, for how much she changes in between. The soft roundness of her face has pulled more oval, lips still a plush pink he wants to part, but she’s a little slower, a little more sure of herself, more knowing.

Sam ends up on his back, legs awkwardly folded towards the ceiling of the car, Claire with one leg over his waist and another in the footwell as she pushes his shirt up and grinds against him. She’s so fucking hot under her jeans he can feel her, gets them open and a hand in there, fingers sliding in the slick as she moans and bites at his lower lip.

He argues less every time they do this.

He doesn’t even feel like arguing at all right now.

Sam bumps his head when he tries to sit up. Claire slides to the side, gets her leg stuck, curses as she folds herself over the front seat with her ass to his face and her jeans partway down her thighs. Sam pulls the black cotton panties to the side and buries himself between her legs. Hot and slick, Claire pulls her legs as wide as she can with her jeans still mostly on and Sam squirms his way closer, laps against her clit and squeezes his hands into the give of her hips. His legs are folded cramped in the footwell, but it’s fine.

It’s better than trying to muffle their noises in Jody’s basement, to be honest.

Sitting further back on the seat, knees pressed to the front-seat, Sam hooks an arm around her waist and tugs. Claire slides back, head still bent low, passes him a condom he’s not sure where from but Sam puts it on and she sits on his dick. Her legs are pressed together in between his spread thighs, fits better that way, and Sam thrusts into her deep then grinds.

Claire, her hands braced on the front seat gripped tight as the leather creaks, bounces back on him in little aborted movements as she whines. Sam knows, by now, what she needs. Sneaks one of his hands lower, pulls up the cotton of her shirt and gets down past where her panties are pulled aside to circle over her clit. Holding her tight on his lap and rolling his hips, Sam rubs her off and it isn’t long before Claire starts to tremble, muscles locked tense in just the right position as she gasps in deep breathes and starts to seize around him.

Leaning forward, one hand still between her legs, Sam pushes her a little higher up and over the front seat so he can fuck into her with a snap of his hips, face pressed between her shoulder blades, smell of her sweat and clothes and hair, perfect.

After, tugging at her twisted up panties before she pulls her jeans back up, Claire sighs and pulls knotted hair over one shoulder.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about cutting this.”

“Don’t,” Sam tells her, “If you like it, don’t. You could always… braid it, or put it up.”

Claire twists her hair up in the shadows of the car, bandaid across her forehead, black eyeliner smudged, and she smiles at him.


End file.
